Forgotten
by white lotus
Summary: Sasuke broods, perhaps a little more than he should. A touch of angst.


**A/N -** SasuNaru. This is a one-shot, in third person, Sasuke-centric. Written for selfish satisfaction. _Very_ slight angst, _very_ slight hint of yaoi. Blink and you'll miss it completely.

**Disclaimer - **Why do I always forget these? Because I automatically assume that everyone else knows I don't own anything worth much. It should be obvious. O.o

**Thanks to -** My lovely, lovely Beta. You rock my cushy socks.

**Forgotten**

Facts are firm. Established foundation; an anchor when all logic is lost. Uchiha Sasuke likes facts, and he clings to them for fear of floating away.

He knows, even as he throws this last punch at Uzumaki's stomach that the only reason he's won this spar is that the dobe has no idea how to use that tremendous power he possesses. It's a fact that no matter how hard Sasuke trains, he always seems to be one step behind Naruto.

This isn't something the Uchiha is willing to accept just yet, but it's a fact, and he stores it away for later reference.

Kakashi-sensei, refereeing from behind his battered copy of _Icha Icha Paradise_ rules Sasuke the winner of the match and calls it quits for the day, wandering off with his nose still buried in the book.

Naruto sits in the grass, catching his breath, and Sasuke wants to know if his opponent is all right. He fights the temptation to ask, and wins easily, turning away and remaining silent as he pretends to re-adjust the bandages below his knees.

"Sasuke-bastard! Don't get all cocky now! I let you win today!"

"Hn." Sasuke needn't have bothered. Uzumaki is fine.

"Shut up, Naruto!" Haruno Sakura's shrill reprimand causes both the boys to jump, even though they're expecting it. "Sasuke-kun won fair and square, he's way more talanted than you!"

It's a fact that Sakura is infatuated with him. Sasuke vaguely wonders whether it's conceited of him to realise this. He knows every phrase she speaks containing his name is said to impress him, every stolen glance is filled with burning adoration. He's done all he can to eradicate the mere suggestion he might ever return her blind affection, but Sakura refuses to budge. False hope is what _she_ clings to.

But Sasuke knows something else. He knows Sakura will move on, that one day she will realise how much time she's wasted and hurry off to make up for it. That Lee guy seems a promising candidate to assist in guiding her.

Sasuke smiles at this, and Naruto thinks that the Uchiha is gloating over his victory, which only fuels the white-hot temper of the blond boy, who, in an unexpected burst of energy, leaps to his feet.

"Just you wait, Sasuke-bastard! I'll whip your white Uchiha ass!"

Sasuke doesn't doubt it.

Somewhere in his mind, the fact that he'll never truly be Naruto's match starts to resurface, but he doesn't have the energy or desire to address this issue right now.

Feigning a mask of indifference, he announces that he's going home.

Sakura wants to walk with him, Naruto wants to walk with Sakura and the three make their way through Konoha in a silence that yawns, stretches and trails them lazily as the sun sinks, blood-red below the horizon.

At the Haruno residence, the are greeted by Sakura's mother, who offers Sasuke and Naruto a serving of dinner each to take home.

Sasuke sees the strange glances directed at Naruto in contrast to the smiles the Uchiha receives and notices that his own portion of food is considerably larger than Naruto's. Despite this, the noisy ninja thanks Mrs Haruno enthusiastically, bowing over and over.

Sasuke isn't fooled, however. He's known Naruto long enough to tell that beneath the fox-grin, the boy is suffering, hurting, alone.

So much like himself.

It strikes a chord in the Uchiha and he wants to say something, to tell Naruto it's okay, he's not the only one, but the words refuse to form, and Sasuke simply turns away so he won't have to look anymore.

When Sakura finally manages to usher her mother inside, blushing and apologising, it is dark and the crickets have begun their evening symphony. Sasuke watches Naruto walk ahead, absently swinging the take-away box that contains his share of food.

It's a fact that Sasuke's relationship with Naruto is odd. Sworn rivals, best friends to the bitter, bloody end. And so much more.

Sasuke knows that they're two of a kind: Both orphened due to tragedy, lonely, headstrong and driven by an ultimate goal. For Naruto, it's to be Hokage. To be recognised as someone worthy of praise for great deeds. He wants to be a Hero, respected and loved, and Sasuke knows that Naruto will accomplish this: Not the title of Hokage particularly, but the acknowledgement and attention the blond boy craves, because he... He _cares._ Naruto holds in his hands the heart of every person he has met and changed. He has this unique ability of reaching into a person's soul and affecting them in such a way, they simply cannot forget about him, even if they tried. Even Gaara, cold as the desert sand under the moonlight seemed moved by Uzumaki's spirit.

Sasuke has been altered by Naruto too, but the after-effects of this is uncertain. This is something Sasuke _doesn't _know, and wary, he edges away from the thought, afraid of what he might realise should he pursue it.

For Sasuke, his goal is to avenge his clan, kill Uchiha Itachi. The name is acid in his mouth and mind, burning, corroding everything around him down to that single, comsuming obsession, and unlike Naruto, Sasuke will not let anyone stand in his way. Even if it means giving up his life, giving up all that he has come to cherish and appreciate...

They have arrived at the Uchiha complex. The structure is huge, imposing, empty. Cold as the twin stone lions which guard the gate, and just a lifeless.

Sasuke's heart plummets at the thought of spending another night alone: Another dinner by himself, no one to converse with, laugh with, argue with, then, a lonely bed, no tucking in, no goodnight kisses, lying awake until four in the morning and perhaps gaining three hours of sleep before forcing himself out of bed for another dawn.

But it's routine. Solid, firm fact, and Sasuke is used to it, used to facing it on his own and the indifference he wears like an ANBU mask comes automatically, flawless and with ease.

"Tomorrow, Sasuke-bastard!" Naruto waves over his shoulder. "I'll kick your ass tomorrow! Ja-ne!"

Sasuke is horrified. Before he can stop himself, he's already calling out, "Naruto. Do you want to stay for dinner?"

The most surprising ninja of Fire Country is... Stunned. "Who me?"

"Who else, dobe, the streetlight? Now get inside before I change my mind."

The grin Naruto bestows upon the Uchiha is catches the dark-haired boy off-guard.

He smiles back. It's strange.

Sasuke doesn't know. He doesn't know what he's doing, and he's enjoying every second of it.

He serves their meal in his best china, rice in two white bowls, Mrs Haruno's cooking arranged on a central platter, so Naruto can no longer tell which portion is his or Sasuke's.

He eats twice as much as Sasuke, but the Uchiha doesn't mind.

As the friends pick their way through dinner, Sasuke searches for facts again, without much success. He isn't sure he'll be able to achieve his goal like Naruto will achieve his. Sasuke is a pretender. He pretends he doesn't care, and it works.

He glances at Naruto, who grins broadly, a bit of nori lodged between his teeth.

Well, it works most of the time, anyway.

He wonders if it will ever come to having to kill Naruto to get what he wants. He wonders for a while, and decides that it is a fact. The time would come, and Sasuke would do what he had to. This fact is disturbing and he hides it away with the other uncomfortable truths.

So for now, he will settle for less complex thoughts. He's enjoying dinner for the first time in a long time. They're not speaking, but the silence is comforting and both are glad for the other's presence.

This is a fact. One they both know, and know that the other knows, but it will never be voiced out loud.

It is reluctantly that Sasuke says goodnight to Naruto, but he doesn't see Naruto to the door, the blond lets himself out.

His room is dark.

Even with the air conditioner switched off, the doona wrapped like a chrysalis around him, it's a losing battle that Sasuke fights with the coldness.

At last he sits up and switches on the bedside lamp, surrendering to insomnia, and his hand brushes against the photograph of Team Seven. Kakashi with his large hands tousling both blond and black locks at once on either side, Sakura in the middle, smiling openly, as detached and oblivious as their sensei to the rowdy arguement that Naruto and Sasuke had had seconds before the shutter closed.

Naruto looks defiant, proud.

Sasuke just looks.

What is this wall of insensitivity that Sasuke has semi-consciously built against the world? Disturbed that he cannot read his own expression, he untangles himself from the doona and searches for another photo.

Stoic, blank stares.

He looks like a porcelain doll.

The search becomes frantic, until he locates a sepia memory, at the bottom of a box of scrolls, Itachi and himself, a child of three, clinging to his older brother's arm as he wields a lollipop.

What was the flavour? Did Itachi buy it for him? Sasuke studies the two faces, the rapturous, oblivious laughter in the younger boy's face, the confusion on the older sibling's part as his little brother attempts to amuse him.

He's shaking as he shreds the photograph, pulling it savagely into fragments of a dream to be forgotten, ripping over and over...

Only he hasn't. the photograph remains whole and Sasuke tucks it away, under a Genjutsu scroll, before resuming his search.

Blank. Blank. Blank.

He can't find any. Not a single photo of him smiling beyond the age of eight, and he's afraid. Afraid that he's taken his act too far, that he's become an emotionless, mechanical tool.

Photos lie about like discarded thoughts as the Uchiha struggles with himself, but he notices an image. A recent one, black and white Polaroid, taken at a wild angle, most probably by Kakashi hanging from a tree.

Sakura's shouting at Naruto, who in turn is shouting at Sasuke. Issuing a challange? Insult?

Sasuke is smiling. He's smiling so hard his head aches and his eyes sting. He doesn't understand the warm, wet tracks on his cheeks, the salty moisture in the corner of his lips, the sudden, dizzying rush of relief and gratitude and the overwhelming desire to see Naruto, right now.

Sasuke knows he's come close to drowning. He knows the current is swift and Naruto is the only one strong enough to save him.

He knows that one day, Naruto won't be able to hold on anymore.

But it's all right, and Sasuke is safe for the moment.

He can hear the window open behind him, but he doesn't turn around, yields as a slender pair of arms encircle his waist, warm breath ghosting over his neck as his dark hair mingles with spiky blond locks.

Naruto knows that Sasuke's been crying. Knows he hasn't been sleeping, and he knows that they're both cold and tired - oh, so tired - and lonely.

So lonely.

But just for tonight let them be glad with the knowledge that it is not so. The ache will lessen, the wounds will heal, just for this one night, as they lie side by side, cold no more, tired no more, lonely no more.

And as Sasuke tightens his hold on Naruto, taking in the sweet scent of almond milk in his hair, the salt on his skin, he knows that this is wrong. He knows that things like these are like the sakura blossoms in the Spring, like trying to catch a snowflake in your bare hands, like trying to keep the sand at the beach from washing away, like trying to cease the cycle of the moon, so that it may shine in full phase forever... These things are beautiful, but they are not made to last, and he knows that it is only for tonight.

Sasuke wakes to an empty embrace.

If not for the warmth lingering on the sheets beside him, the Uchiha would have doubted last night ever happened at all.

Blinking in the morning light, Sasuke seizes a couple of facts and clings onto them for dear life.

It is a fact that he will force himself to forget last night and he knows Naruto will do the same. And even though neither will succeed in completely erasing the memory from their mind, they will never speak of it at all.

He knows that Naruto will "forget" before he does, get on with life before he does, and will resist the urge to pine. He wonders whether Naruto will eventually realise the feelings Hyuuga Hinata harbour for him, and for a heartbeat, a bitter-sweet smile lingers like a butterfly on the Uchiha's lips before vanishing into the the breeze blowing in though the open window.

It is a firmly established fact that Sasuke thinks too much.

Way too much.

Burying his face in his pillow briefly, he decides he wants to sleep in today, and he wishes for a moment that Naruto were beside him.

But it's only for a moment.

Uchiha Sasuke is madly, deeply, desperately in love with Naruto.

This is also a fact.

A fact that they both know and know that the other knows, but it will never be voiced out loud.

And perhaps it's better that way.


End file.
